Coveting
by Exquisiteliltart
Summary: "Sometimes you don't have to necessarily spend a lot of time with somebody to have exchanged a lot of yourself and taken away parts of them that become a part of your body map. That sort of becomes written, tattooed on you in some way. And it can't be seen visibly, but it's felt internally." –Tori Amos
1. Chapter 1

Title: Coveting

Pairing: Regina/Emma  
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters are not my creative property

Summary: "No. We begin by coveting what we see every day. Don't you feel eyes moving over your body, Clarice? And don't your eyes seek out the things you want?**" **_~Hannibal Lector_

It started from the moment Emma Swan appeared on her doorstep. Regina verbalized her first thought as she took in the woman before her with disbelief and trepidation, "You're Henry's birth mother?"

She scanned her from head to foot, filing away the obvious and subtle similarities in their genetics: Round faces, high cheekbones, prominent chins. In their subsequent meetings and fights, she caught herself again and again thinking, comparing, wondering…_looking_.

At first it was innocent, and her thoughts probably mirrored what any adoptive parent might wonder. She had always been curious about Henry's _mother_, and when Emma stood before her, eyes storming in anger, she imagined what she would have looked like as a young teenager, hugely pregnant. Did she carry Henry high and tight, or was her belly round and low? Did she rub her stomach and speak softly to her unborn child? Or, knowing that she would give him up: did she do her best to ignore the growing human inside of her and go about her day? Had she ever felt she had a choice in the matter at all?

Did Emma have a C-section or a natural birth? Were there scars, tattoos, birthmarks peppering Emma's body like a map of her life? Regina tried not to care about Emma. She tried to stop thinking about her, but every time she confronted the woman her eyes had a mind of their own, tracing over her curves and darting back up to seek the untold answers to her musings.

Regina began to take note of Emma's physical strength. She caught herself lingering on Emma's flexing arms when she wielded the chainsaw cutting off a branch of Regina's tree.

Her eyes continued to betray her again and again, unable to keep them off of her nemesis. Every time they met she found herself standing closer, looking a little longer. Drinking in the details, and letting her mind fill in the unseen.

At night, the time when Regina let her worries whoosh in like water breaking a dam, unbidden thoughts of Emma would drift into her head. She pictured her during different events in Emma's various life events. How did Emma like to make love? Did she like to be in control, or was she passive, letting her partner dominate? Regina wondered about how she kissed and how she liked to be kissed. Did she express her pleasure vocally through moans and verbal encouragements? What did she look like when she reached climax?

The knowledge that she was of Snow White's lineage begged an entirely new set of questions. A new anger seethed inside of Regina. A new form of hate for the woman grew, but with it also came a new desire. She wanted to test Emma, push her: physically and mentally.

The thoughts grew with each glance, each touch the other woman bestowed on her. The time at the mines- when Henry was trapped: A hand on her arm to get her attention, a hand on her back to let her know it was going to be okay. Looking was one thing, but touching threw Regina off kilter. When Regina felt off balance she lashed out.

Emma had rescued her from the fire. They had held hands, and embraced in desperation. Regina had asked, no, _plead_- for help. Emma had shown mercy.

A realization now troubled her. At first she thought it was her own overactive imagination, but over and over she confirmed her suspicions. The implications frightened her: Emma was always _looking_ back at her. Matching her intensity and meeting her gaze, unfaltering.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Coveting (2)

Pairing: Regina/Emma  
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These characters are not my creative property

Summary: _"Sometimes you don't have to necessarily spend a lot of time with somebody to have exchanged a lot of yourself and taken away parts of them that become a part of your body map. That sort of becomes written, tattooed on you in some way. And it can't be seen visibly, but it's felt internally." –Tori Amos_

Emma had always wondered about the woman who had adopted the baby. Even while her belly swelled she pictured the life he would have with _her_. She never really thought about him directly, it was too painful. She had chosen to sever the maternal bond before it was even formed. She let herself imagine the woman who had taken her place. Her son's provider and support: his true mother.

How he fit in her arms. Did she read him stories and rock him to sleep? The pride she must feel as her child reached each of life's many milestones: his first step, his first word, first day of school. Did she feel like he was growing up too fast? Did she cherish the time they spent together playing in the park or baking cookies? Was she raising him to become a respectful and honorable man?

She had willingly given her flesh and blood to a total stranger, trusting her more than she trusted herself.

Emma had never been one to second guess. She lived life in a straight forward line. She hovered in the present, and had never felt the pain of regret from her decision. He was never really hers anyway. Given up, before he was given away. At no time during her pregnancy or post-partum had she claimed the child. Her solace came from the knowledge that he would have a chance at a better life. She took comfort that her son would know love that she wasn't capable of giving; the depth of which she had never herself known.

When the baby, no- the boy, appeared at her door, she couldn't even bring herself to call him by name. A name Emma didn't choose.

_I don't have parents, just a mom and she's evil. She doesn't love me she only pretends to. _

Emma refused to believe him. She had to see for herself. She was trained to read people; to know instinctively if they spoke the truth. Even tear stained and red, Regina's dark eyes were impenetrable.

In each of their subsequent meetings, Emma constantly searched those eyes for clues, clinging to flashes of vulnerability. Regina seemed ageless. She displayed confidence and bravado, and was all too quick to snap. Regina revealed the most when she thought Emma wasn't looking. Emma glimpsed her innate passion and raw desire. Those eyes had a hold over Emma, when fixed on her they caused involuntary shivers to course through her. She was warned to fear the mayor, but she didn't. What she felt was something else. All too often she felt prickles of recognition in the other woman: the loneliness, the helpless desperation when Henry was in danger.

Emma was amazed to find she couldn't compartmentalize her emotions when it came to Regina. Everything rolled and stuck together in a big gooey mish mashed ball of bleeding rage and infuriating longing. The more Regina pushed, the more Emma needed to pull. She needed distance; she needed to find breathing room to sort the jumbled foreign emotions that scratched insistently at her insides. The uncontainable outpour broke forth when Henry fell unconscious.

It was only when Emma realized her own love for her son, breaking the curse and bringing him back to the waking world with the kiss of true love, did she finally know with certainty the answer to her original question.

_Henry, no matter what you think, no matter what anyone tells you, I do love you_

Regina's shining eyes were trained on Henry. Always her son. Blind, unbreakable: love.


End file.
